I Remember Taci

I remember when Taci would drive me to school in the morning, and sometimes I’d be late because of the train tracks.

I remember when Taci walked up the stairs and his ankles would crack.

I remember when Taci shared his grapefruit with me, and when he peeled me a big piece he said it was a ‘horsie bite’. If it was bigger than that, it was an ‘elephant bite’, and the biggest one was a ‘buffalo bite’.

I remember going to the Canadian National Exhibition and a carnival game would chant ‘doggie doggie, buffalo buffalo”. Taci would say that for years later, when he was in a good mood.

I remember when Taci took me to my guitar lessons.

I remember when Taci would play the banjo at night.

I remember Taci teaching judo, and wrestling with his students.

I remember when Taci and I went to the 1976 Olympic Games, and I asking him why he wasn’t fighting in the Judo matches with the other men.

I remember when Taci watched NHL hockey. He would ask me to get him a beer from the fridge, and I’d secretly take a sip before bringing it to him.

I remember when Charlotte’s Web premiered on television but I cried because I wasn’t allowed to watch it, because of hockey.

I remember when Taci bought the Aldershot Animal Hospital and we slept there for six months till our house was built.

I remember when Taci was upset with me because I filed a client card incorrectly, and he couldn’t find it.

I remember when Taci was operating on a dog, and the air smelled bad.

I remember when Taci told Mamička about the clients that visited that day.

I remember our great dane respected and loved Taci a lot.

I remember when Taci built a pool for us in the back yard, and he played with us.

I remember when Taci chasing me and my cousins around the house, and how happy I was to have a dad that played with me.

I remember when Taci built a deck and I helped by holding the measuring tape. Taci kept saying 69″ with each board he measured and from that day forward we called the measuring tape ’69’.

I remember Taci telling me stories about his family, and how life was like in Czechoslovakia.

I remember asking Taci why we left, and I noticed how sad he was, telling me that communism will unlikely fall in our lifetime.

I remember how Taci talked to and respected everyone, even an elevator attendant.

I remember when I asked Taci about the birds and the bees and he told me that you should love someone if you make love.

I remember when Taci would stand by the window and look at the ravine for a long time, thinking about stuff.

I remember when Taci stood in the kitchen, looking depressed, and I wanting to tell him that everything would be OK.

I remember when Taci came out of the house when I was playing basketball. He looked at the house, as if for the last time. As he walked down the street I thought I would never see him again.

Diary • 31st December 1993

• I arrived in Košice on the morning of December 23rd. The train ride was ten hours, and not relaxing in the least. I initially bought a second class ticket, but ended up exchanging it for first class after seeing the uncomfortable seating arrangements. Even in first class our cabin soon filled to its six person capacity. Sleeping in a sitting position was terrible, but eventually people disembarked, allowing room to stretch out. On my arrival Richard and Csaba Kende greeted me at the train station. I stayed at Csaba’s, with the exception of two nights spent at Rišo and Terka’s.

• On the day of my arrival I was honored to attend Rišo’s grading for his second degree judo black belt. I took a few pictures. Most notable was the chronicle of judoka, posted at the entrance of the dojo, showing the first black belts. At the top of the list were:

As I looked at my dad and uncle’s names, I felt proud. I was reminded at that moment of what they contributed to the history judo, in this small town.

• My week in Košice got me thinking of how it must have been for my parents when I was born. I began to realise the impact of their decision to leave their homeland in 1969. The fear and anxiety during those days, hoping that where they were headed was better than where they came from. As Csaba explained it, ten judoka left the dojo for the West. But from those who left, the club’s greatest loss has been the Dusil’s. How could they have all known they were making the right decision?

• I could have stayed in Canada, and continued to shut my eyes to the significance that Košice represents. But I chose to return to my parent’s homeland and learn. My week in Košice has also taught me the economic consequences of the socialist regime of the Eastern Block. We left twenty-four years ago because of politics, and my parents unwillingness to subject themselves to communist servitude. Now I’ve come full circle and moved back to my roots, to start a new life in Prague. The Czech Republic is now a free market, so my future resides in capitalist system. On top of that I get to learn about international business, culture, and etiquette. I intend to learn for my future and entreprenéurial destiny.

• So have I made the right decision? Will I prosper in Eastern Europe? Will I exceed, or at the very least, match the success of my parents? Will I become a stronger person? Will I be happy? These questions I will continually ask myself as I search for my identity.

• On the 26th of September 2015, the Slovak Judo Association held an event to commemorate the 60th anniversary of Judo in Košice. Twelve members were honored, who were instrumental in building the foundations of Košice Judo over six decades. This is my speech I prepared for the event.

• English Translation

I would like to thank Judo Košice for honoring my father, Vaclav Dusil.

From childhood I admired my father, and I have admired him my whole life.

My father studied veterinary medicine in Košice and was the only student to graduate with honors. Together with my mother they established a successful veterinary practice, that exists to this day.

Before emigrating to Canada, my father won many awards in Judo and received his second degree black belt. He was a national champion in Slovakia, and in the 60’s became head coach of Lokomotiva Košice. My father was very popular among judoka, his fellow colleagues in university, in business and especially among friends and family.

He married the best wife and the best mother in the world. To have a better future for his family, we immigrated to Canada to begin a new chapter.

Not only was Vaclav the best father in the world, but also the best man I ever knew.

• My dad was the men’s judo team leader and the head coach of Lokomotíva Košice throughout the 1960’s. He won a bronze medal in the 1960 junior nationals. As a senior, my dad always advanced to the final rounds in his weight category and typically ended just behind the medalists in 5th or 6th place. Even more difficult, my dad competed in the heavier weight class, to avoid fighting his older brother. In the early 1960’s, weight classes were up to 68kg (my dad’s fighting weight, in his prime), then up to 80kg and finally, 80+ kg. A judoka weighing 60 kg could compete in the 80+ kg category if desired. Everything being equal, typically the lighter fighter was at a disadvantage.

• Judo weight classes have been revised several times over the years. The weight classes were broader than those in boxing (in increments of 3 to 4 kg). So cutting weight by dieting or visiting a steam bath was far less common in judo than in boxing . Competitive tactics consisted mainly of focusing on the opponent’s weaknesses. Coach would shout tips during tournaments, such as which grip to use or throw to try. As residents of Košice, a city with a significant Hungarian minority, many knew a bit of that language, so tips during competition were frequently coded in Hungarian. On one occasion a referee tried to prevent one of the Košice coach’s to speak Hungarian during a match. An opposing coach complained that he did not understand. My uncle told him sharply, “learn other languages!” and he clammed up.

• My father and his teammates trained twice per week, in the original gym. As time passed they had more gym time and had proper judo tatami (the special mats needed to absorb the impact of a judo throw). By this time they trained three or more times per week. Women trained separately from the men. In the 1960’s the judo oddiel of Lokomotíva Košice peaked close to 100 members.

• I miss my dad tremendously. He would have celebrated his 73rd birthday today.

• Postscript by Gabriel Dusil • 2014 October • My dad and Igor Fridrich were best friends. Their friendship has also carried down to the next generation.

66.Feb – Košice · Eva Kendeova, Vaclav & Karol Dusil (neighbour kids)

• Postscript by Eva Dusil • 2014 November • This photo were taken in the yard where Taci lived. It’s the winter of 1966, soon after we started dating (happy memories). The two boys are from the neighborhood and were also judoka that your father taught.